Touch Me (I'm a Celebrity)
by Kanoi-chan
Summary: Dean Winchester is a newly signed, still green behind the ears musician who is new to the Big Apple. Ruby Genz is the wildly famous and popular pop star that takes him under her wing. Castiel Novak and Meg Masters are well respected models. What follows is Dean's rapid introduction to industry and all its trappings.
1. Chapter 1

_I know, I know, like I don't already have enough WIPs, but I've had this planned for ages and finally just couldn't keep putting off anymore. Depending on just **how** raunchy the smut in this gets, you may have to go over to AO3 to read it in its entirety because I'm not having a 12 year old account deleted for one fic lol. But for now, I plan on only having one version across all mediums. But consider yourselves warned for content on the sexual side of things. There is also massive amounts of drug abuse in this fic, though just not in this chapter._

_As always, huge thanks to my lovely beta, pharocomics._

_Also, special mention for viscouslover for looking over the first bit of this chapter and being an awesome source of moral support._

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><p>The air in the club is muggy, hot, and heavy with sweat and sex. The thrum of music is bone rattling, loud enough so that people have to be in each other's personal space to hear each other, even if they don't particularly want to be that close. The strobe lights flashing blue, red, white, green, blue overhead are an epileptic's worst nightmare.<p>

It's the most cliché thing Dean has seen since moving to the City, a scene right out of every awful sitcom and movie set in New York, and Dean loves it.

"Welcome to your first Hollywood party," Ruby calls into his ear, all but resting her chin on his shoulder, smiling like the cat that got the canary as she waits for his assessment.

Dean turns to her, and yep, they're way closer than he would ever be to Ruby otherwise. He squints down into her face that keeps disappearing every other second with the flash of the strobe lights. "But we're in New York."

Ruby's cat with the canary grin just grows wider, fittingly ruby red lips parting to expose whiter than white teeth. "But it might as well be. You've hit the VIPs, kid." As she says it, she runs a hand down his arm, and if Dean didn't actually _know_ Ruby, he'd swear she's hitting on him. But he does know Ruby; she's been his best friend and pseudo-mentor since he moved here and they met that first day in the studio. He knows she isn't hitting on him, mainly because he knows she doesn't swing that way. It's just Ruby being Ruby.

His eyes travel up from her hand back to her eyes. "I get the distinct feeling you shouldn't say that, though. Aren't New Yorkers pretty renown for being protective of their... New Yorker-ness?" Dean is starting to feel out of his depth, at least more than he already was.

Ruby throws her head back in a laugh, smile split wide open now, and even though he can't quite hear her laughter over the steady bass, the movement alone is mesmerizing. Or maybe that's just an effect of the strobe lights.

Then her chin is back on his shoulder, her hands holding onto his bicep and forearm as he's acutely aware of the dig of her nails (also ruby red) into his skin, and she's purring into his ear, "Just how many people here do you think are _actually_ from New York?"

It's a good question, but obviously a rhetorical one, as before Dean has even had time to mull it over, Ruby is giving him the answer. "News flash, it's not a lot. These are all people who came into the city to make it big, just like you. Only difference is that they've already made it."

Dean knows that's true, that he could never get into this place on his own merit. Not yet, anyway. He won't be riding on Ruby's coat tails forever, though, the fact that she took him under her wing a testament to that.

"Don't worry, though. Pretty soon it'll be you holding parties like this." As Ruby slides her right hand the rest of the way down his arm and into his hand, lacing their fingers together, Dean thinks he will probably never throw a party quite like _this__, but_ it's a nice thought.

"Now come on, there's people I want you to meet." And then she's pulling away and leading him by the hand through the crowds.

Dean tries to take in the surroundings, the _people_. He tries to see if there are any faces he recognizes through the haze and bouncing light, but it's impossible to tell for exactly those reasons. It sets his heart to racing to think about just _who_ could be at a party like this. Never mind that he's well on his way to being one of them; that he's in the process of recording his debut album under the same label as _Ruby Genz_; that said label is already talking about planning his first tour. He isn't one of them _yet_, and just potentially being in the same space as anyone important or famous is enough to make his palms sweat. Thankfully, Ruby is kind enough to never mention it.

He wonders who Ruby wants him to meet. It could be anyone, anyone who does anything. Ruby has been in the business awhile and knows plenty of people. Part of the reason Ruby is Dean's best friend here is that she is in fact his _only_ friend in New York. He hasn't met anyone else yet, other than the people that work in the studio and for the label, but none of them had given Dean the second glance that Ruby had. She's been good to him so far.

"Who are we meeting?" Dean shouts.

Ruby taps the index finger of her free hand against her ear and then waggles it back and forth in the air- she can't hear him.

Left to wonder, then.

Ruby leads him through the whole bottom floor of the club, twisting and turning through people until they reach a staircase with a velvet rope across the bottom and a bouncer next to it.

"He's with me," Ruby purrs, saccharine smile bringing a blush to the bouncer's cheeks as he lifts the rope to let them through. Dean is hardly through when the bouncer puts it back down, so close to it still that he can actually hear the click of metal on metal.

Ruby turns on the steps and crowds up into Dean's space, breath ghosting across his face as she pseudo-whispers, "_Extra_ VIP." And then she turns around again and is leading him once more.

At the top of the stairs, there's a door, and when they walk through it it's like a whole new club- the music more sensual and the lighting more ambient, soft greens and blues that don't temporarily blind you on every skipped beat. When Dean unconsciously squeezes Ruby's hand, she just gives a reassuring squeeze back. Then she drops his hand entirely.

Ruby turns on the balls of her feet, her heels far too preoccupied by four-inch pumps. She crooks her finger at him in a come hither motion. When she says, "Follow me," though, it's in complete contradiction with her seductive demeanor. She sounds happy and light, and it brings a smile to Dean's face.

"Oh, I get the choice now?" he jokes with a casual shrug of his shoulders as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.

Ruby smiles her first _actual_ smile of the night. "No, I just thought I'd let you feel like you did."

Dean laughs, head tilting back with the force of it.

"Now come on, Toto, before I leave you behind," Ruby says coyly, and so Dean follows her and her ruby red pumps down the metaphorical yellow brick road, curious to see who the wizard is at the end.

They walk to the corner of the room where a plush, leather couch lines the wall, curving into the corner and continuing on, a couple of people lounging upon it in various stages of amory. There are coffee tables placed in front of the couch that bear all sorts of beverages and food and personal items. People are loitering around them, as well.

Dean doesn't notice any of those people, though, not the ones on the couch nor the ones around the tables. His eyes are immediately drawn to a gorgeous couple that are just slightly off to the side of the couch. They're both sinfully tall, which sure, Dean is tall, but these two are all leg and elegant expanse of neck and arm. They both have dark hair- the woman's a beautiful, chocolatey brown that tumbles down her shoulders in waves, while the man's is almost black and styled into the most perfect sex hair Dean has ever seen. They're both standing poised and straight, the perfect picture of superiority.

He spots them while he and Ruby are still halfway across the room and about has a panic attack when he realizes that's where they're headed. He kind of wishes Ruby were still holding his hand so that he could make her stop, pause, _hold on a minute_ while he gets his bearings. However, no such luck because before he can fully get his _oh shit these two are hot, I hope they aren't together (or if they are, they at least let me join)_ feelings under control, he's standing in front of them.

"Dean, meet Meg and Castiel," Ruby says, gesturing first to the woman and then to the man. "Meg, Castiel, meet Dean." Ruby then gestures to him. As Meg and Castiel rake their eyes up and down him, studying, judging, Ruby supplies, "Dean is one of the newer artists on the label."

Meg's purple-stained lips spread into a predatory grin; if Ruby's smile is like the cat with the canary, Meg's is the lion with the gazelle. "New to town then," Meg purrs, her voice all lilting highs and lows and purely hypnotic. She walks around to his unoccupied side, surveying him as though he's a sculpture in a museum, something to be critiqued and picked apart. It's unnerving and sends chills up his spine, chills that are not altogether unpleasant. "Trying to make it big in the Big Apple?" The hypnotic quality of her voice is much stronger up close.

"I bet you came with your own guitar and everything," Meg says, and even Dean can tell she's laughing at him.

Irritation beats out infatuation, and Dean snaps back, "So what if I did?" He's glaring down at her, but she doesn't seem the least bit intimidated. Instead, her predatory grin just spreads wider, some sort of twisted amusement flashing in her eyes.

"It's cute, is all," Meg purrs, leaving Dean feeling completely infantilized. She slides her gaze past Dean and onto Ruby, yet Dean still somehow feels he's the one under the microscope. "Ruby came to town with a guitar of her own, too."

Dean whips his head around to Ruby, searching for verification. Ruby is staring back at Meg, her expression strained, but unreadable to Dean. "I didn't know you could play," he says. Ruby is a pop star; Dean has never seen or heard of her doing anything besides singing.

"Oh, Ruby can do more than just play guitar," Meg purrs beside him, but his eyes don't leave Ruby's face as the singer's expression continues morphing even further from something Dean can comprehend.

"Then why don't you?" Dean asks.

Ruby's attention finally turns away from Meg and onto Dean, and she simply shrugs, a dainty, all-too-practiced movement, as she smiles wanly up at him. "Didn't fit the label's image for me."

"That's such bullshit!" Dean barks.

"Ah, Deano," Meg's lilting voice echoes in his ear, as she slides a hand down his arm. He isn't sure if it's meant to be placating or not, but it stops him in his tracks, electric tingles running up and down his spine from the feel of her flesh on his. He turns to look at her, and perhaps he appears as startled as he feels because the predatory gleam in her eyes only intensifies- a hunter on the prowl. "Welcome to the big leagues, kid. When the label tells you jump, you don't ask 'why?' You ask, 'how high?"

"Leave him alone, Meg." Dean has almost forgotten about Castiel until the other man speaks, voice rough and thrilling, every bit as enthralling as Meg's.

Meg smirks haughtily at the male model, hand on her cocked-out hip. "Afraid I'll scare him off?" she asks, clearly finding humor in Castiel.

Castiel gives a lazy smile back, and Dean can't remember the last time butterflies railed so hard against his gut.

"Maybe I am, Meg."

She laughs. "Well, well, well, I see how it is, Clarence. Pretty boy here shows up, and I'm old hat, is that it?"

Castiel smiles at her, eyes crinkling at the corners. "You know you could never be old hat to me, Meg."

Meg's expression softens, the whole gesture changing her countenance. "No, I suppose not." She looks around Dean to Ruby. "I wanted to talk to you about something, anyway," she tells the singer. "What do you say we let Clarence here take care of Deano for the rest of the night?"

Ruby glances up at Dean. "Only if you're okay with it," she says, but Dean can tell she really wants him to say yes. Surprisingly, he really wants to say yes, too.

"Yeah, that's fine, go ahead." He offers Ruby a reassuring smile, one which she returns, gratitude brilliantly shining through. "Cas and I'll be fine."

Castiel raises an eyebrow in amusement. "Cas?"

Dean is definitely not blushing (and even if he is, the lighting of the club will surely hide it). "Got a problem with that?"

Castiel looks him up and down, assessing him. The lazy smile never falls off his face. "None at all."

"Good." Dean can't explain the sudden rapid beating of his heart.

"Good," Castiel echoes.

Silence falls between them, only the steady thrum of music remaining between them as the rest of the world falls away.

Ruby clears her throat, a soft cough-cough kind of noise, and it's enough to snap Dean out of whatever trance Castiel held him under. He quickly looks to Ruby. "You sure you'll be fine?"

She smiles up at him, pure confidence. "Dean, this city is my playground. I'll be perfectly fine."

Meg leaves his side to stand in front of Castiel, and as she cups one of the man's cheeks and places a kiss to the other, Dean tries to squash down the irrational jealousy he feels.

"See you at the shoot tomorrow. Don't stay out too late, now," Meg purrs fondly.

"Same to you," Castiel says, staring adoringly into Meg's eyes.

And then the moment is over, Castiel placing a hand on Dean's arm to turn him around and head back out to the club proper, saying, "Come on."

Dean looks over his shoulder, seeing Meg and Ruby shift closer to one another, body language completely open and honest. Dean's never seen Ruby look so _real_.

Dean and Castiel head down the stairs, and Dean once again finds himself assaulted by the blare of the beating bass, so loud it drowns out everything else. Castiel grips his arm once more, and Dean's skin sears from the contact as the model leads him out of the club. Dean doesn't even try to take it all in this time. This time, he's only focused on the heat of Castiel's skin through his own shirt.

And then they're out on the street, the music from the club falling away, and the chill, evening air causing a shiver to run through Dean.

"So want to head back to my place?"

Dean jerks in surprise at the question, staring at Cas with wide eyes. "What?"

"I asked if you wanted to come back to my place, Dean." The way Dean's name rolls off Castiel's tongue sends a spark of wanting through Dean, and he can't deny that he isn't attracted to the other man. Castiel is damn near perfect; of course he is, he's a model. But there's something about the combination of perfectly mussed hair, lean muscle, and lazy grin that just sets Dean on fire. There's something magnetic about Castiel, something Dean can't explain.

Castiel crowds up in Dean's space, mere inches between them, so close to touching, yet not. The proximity should make Dean feel uncomfortable, should perhaps remind him of the predatory mannerisms of Meg, only that is doesn't. Instead, it feels close and intimate. Dean can feel Castiel's body heat through their clothes, and once again it's just the two of them, the rest of the world falling away.

This close, Dean is for the first time finally able to see Castiel's eyes. He thinks they could be gorgeous, if the small rim of bright fucking blue is anything to go by. He thinks they could be gorgeous if only his pupils weren't blown unnaturally wide.

"You're on something," Dean whispers, voice low and hoarse from wanting and nerves.

Castiel's hand slips around the back of Dean's neck, a slow, sensual movement that sets Dean's skin ablaze. "Everyone is on something at these kinds of parties," he whispers, breath ghosting across Dean's lips and causing his heart to skip a beat.

"Fair enough," Dean mutters, so quietly, so focused on Castiel's pink tongue darting out to wet dry lips, that he doesn't even know if he actually says it or just thinks it. But he knows he's utterly lost, falling forward to capture the other man's lips in a desperate kiss.

Castiel pulls away, hand still around the back of Dean's neck and still impossibly close, looking thoroughly pleased. "I'll hail us a cab."

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><p>Castiel, of course, lives in a fancy high rise, not that Dean has much opportunity to take it all in. The two are unable to keep their hands off each other once they're sequestered away in the cab, fruitlessly pawing at each other while sharing sloppy kisses. When they reach Castiel's apartment building, Dean is pretty sure he hears Castiel tell the driver to "keep the extra change, for decency's sake." Hush money.<p>

They walk past the doorman civilized enough, but once the doors to the elevator shut, they're on each other again, and this time with a bit more rutting involved. Dean doesn't see which floor Castiel pushes, but he imagines it must be pretty up there considering their elevator makeout session lasts a good, long while.

They stumble out when the elevator dings their arrival to their destination, limbs all tangled and lips barely parting. How they actually make it to Castiel's door without falling, Dean isn't sure. Getting into the apartment is a whole other story.

"Need to unlock the door," Castiel mutters against Dean's mouth, teeth nipping at Dean's lips.

"No one's stopping you." Dean is tightly gripping the other man's slim hips and firmly rubs their cocks together, eliciting moans from the both of them.

"I beg to differ," Castiel gasps out, and through the pleasure, Dean can make out clear amusement. "There seems to be a rather attractive musician standing between me and the door." He slides his hands under Dean's shirt, nails raking up his sides.

Dean growls into the other man's mouth, lifting Castiel effortlessly, the slimmer man's legs instinctively going around his waist, and slams Castiel against the door, lips latching onto the pulse point on the model's neck.

"Problem solved," Dean growls around the skin under his teeth.

Castiel gasps sharply before squeezing Dean's shoulders in warning. "No marks. Have a shoot tomorrow." And if the reminder disappoints Dean any, he at least takes solace in how breathless the man is when he says it.

It's enough of a dousing of cold water for Dean to put Castiel down, though, allowing the other man to turn around and unlock the door. This also allows enough time for Dean to admire Castiel's ass, and shit if it doesn't look like a work of art. He could probably write whole albums about Castiel's ass. Or maybe that's just his dick talking right now.

Castiel finally gets the door open, and Dean is no sooner inside than Castiel is slamming him against the door, crashing their lips together and making quick work of Dean's belt and fly. A deep groan is dragged out of him as Castiel's hand slides under his boxers to wrap around his dick and give a firm tug, thumb sliding over the slit and smearing precum across the head to use as lube as he starts jacking Dean off.

"Bedroom?" Castiel asks, and Dean can feel the teasing smile against his own mouth.

"Fuck yes," he groans in reply, head leaned back against the door.

Castiel pulls away with the command, "Follow me." For a moment, Dean thinks the guy may actually lead him through the apartment by his dick, and he almost thinks he wouldn't completely mind it.

Instead, he gives Dean's dick one more stroke before backing off completely and walking away, pulling clothes off as he goes. Dean is almost jealous that he doesn't get to do the unwrapping himself, but getting to watch the play of muscles under the man's skin is enough of a prize to abate the feeling.

Dean follows suit, removing his clothes as they walk, so that when they finally make it to the bedroom, they're both already completely naked.

Castiel turns on the spot, wrapping one arm around Dean's waist and placing his other hand on Dean's cheek to angle him down for a kiss.

Dean groans at feel of his own slick cock rubbing against Castiel's, and he seeks out more friction, hands going to grip at Castiel's waist as he grinds against him.

Castiel moans wantonly against Dean's mouth, tongue slipping into the musician's mouth to tangle with his own, fingers gripping tightly in Dean's hair as Castiel lets him rut against him.

Castiel pulls sharply on Dean's hair, taking the man by surprise and wrenching his neck back. Castiel's lips go right to the juncture of Dean's neck and jaw, and it's all teeth as Castiel nips bruising kisses into Dean's flesh.

He turns Dean around, pushing the taller man back towards the bed until his knees hit the mattress, legs then buckling underneath as he falls down onto the bed.

Castiel, towering above Dean with his hand still tangled in Dean's hair, commands, "Lean back against the pillows," then releases his hold.

Dean is quick to acquiesce, scooting up the bed so that he is half sitting up, half laying down against the pillows at the head of the bed.

Castiel climbs onto the bed, falling gracefully to his hands and knees, crawling up towards Dean, until he is straddling his lap. Castiel places a firm, probing kiss to Dean's lips, Dean tilting his head back to allow Castiel all the power in the exchange. When Castiel pulls back, he gives the musician a sultry smirk before leaning sideways to pull open a drawer in the bedside table. When he sits back straight, he produces a bottle of lube and a condom.

Castiel shimmies back down Dean's lap, leaning down and forward so that his face is hovering just over Dean's cock and his ass is up in the air.

Castiel stares up into Dean's eyes, light from the city outside reflecting sharply in the blue and black. Dean can't help but stare back. His cock twitches in anticipation when he hears the bottle of lube snap open with a sharp _shnick!_ He watches as Castiel reaches a hand behind himself, watches as he sinks a finger into his tight hole, watches the expression of discomfort change to one of bliss as he gets used to the intrusion and starts pumping the finger in and out slowly.

When Castiel's hot mouth sinks down onto his dick, Dean about bucks up off the bed, only held back by Castiel's surprisingly strong hand on his hip. Dean throws his head back with a groan as Castiel bobs up and down, tongue doing little figure eights along his dick.

Dean whines when Castiel pulls off.

"Look at me, Dean," he commands, and Dean is helpless but to follow the directive. Castiel is staring up at him, intensity etched into his face, and it's enough to take Dean's breath away. "Don't ever look away from me," Castiel says.

Dean is drunk on the feeling that this beautiful, successful man is going going down on him, opening himself up for him, wants to be with him. It's more than Dean knows what to do with.

He nods and says, "Always."

A pleased, little smile spreads across Castiel's face, something so painfully real in the expression. Then he's flicking his tongue against Dean's slit, probing at the soft flesh there. Dean lets out a guttural sound, but fights the urge to close his eyes, to throw his head back in bliss. He keeps his eyes firmly glued on Castiel.

He watches as Castiel licks sloppily up and down his shaft as though it's a lollipop. He watches as Castiel adds the second finger to his hole, moaning in pleasure at the oh-so-good burn. He watches as Castiel scissors himself open as he swallows Dean down, down, down his throat, all the way to the hilt. He tangles a hand into Castiel's hair when he moans around his dick as he slips in the third finger. Never once does he take his eyes off the beautiful man before him, and just when he thinks it's too much, just as he thinks he's about to cum down the model's throat, Castiel pulls off with an obscene pop, meeting no resistance from Dean's hand still tangled in his hair.

Dean groans at the sight of Castiel's swollen, red lips still connected to his dick by a thin strand of saliva. Castiel gives him a lazy, toothy smile, pressing a kiss to the tip before sliding his fingers out of his own ass and sitting back on his haunches.

Dean continues watching as Castiel tears open the condom wrapper and slides the latex onto Dean's weeping cock. He watches Castiel's face, eyes staring back at him as well, as Castiel lubes up Dean's member. Their eyes never leave each other as Castiel crawls into Dean's lap, even as he leans down to press his swollen lips to Dean's. Even as Dean groans at the taste of himself on Castiel's tongue, his hands going to rest on slim hips to steady Castiel as he slides down _so fucking slowly_ onto Dean's dick, Dean never looks away from blown out, blue eyes.

"Shit, Cas," Dean gasps out once he's fully seated in Castiel.

"Call me that again. Call me that always," Castiel whispers, demands, as he slowly rocks back and forth on Dean's cock.

"Cas Cas Cas Cas Cas." The name spills out in a litany as Castiel picks up the pace, hands sliding up Dean's chest to grip at his shoulders and ride him in earnest. All Dean can do is hold onto sharp hip bones, help guide the snap of his own hips, as he stares into Castiel's eyes, repeating the nickname like a prayer.

When Cas's back arches, muscles tight as a bowstring as he breaks eye contact with Dean, a pleasure cry erupting from his lips, Dean knows he's hit that spot inside Cas that makes fireworks go off.

He tightens his grip on the sharp, angular hip, hips that make for the perfect handles, and snaps his dick up into the tight body atop him, hitting Cas's prostate every time, wrenching pleasured screams from the man until finally, nails raking down Dean's chest hard enough to mark, Castiel comes with a cry of Dean's name, white painting his stomach.

Dean keeps thrusting, fucking Cas through his orgasm, coming not long after with his own shouted litany of "Cas Cas Cas."

As he comes down from the high, Castiel collapsed bonelessly against him, Dean can't help thinking he just had what was very likely the best sex of his entire life with a male model he met in the VIP lounge of an already VIP club.

New York lifestyle, indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

_Huge thanks to pharocomics for betaing, and thank you to the ECKC for moral support and oo-ing and ah-ing over the porn lol._

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><p>The next morning, Dean wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, with the early morning sun shining through unfamiliar blinds into an unfamiliar room. He stretches out under the most comfortable sheets he's ever felt in his life, the only thing bothering him being that the bed has a cold, empty spot where an incredibly hot model once laid. He grunts in tired frustration as his blind, tired search for another body comes up empty. With a groan, he rolls onto his back, blinking blearily up at the ceiling until his vision clears.<p>

In the light of day, Dean can appreciate just how nice the room is, even if it's a bit modern for his tastes. The whole thing is decked out in a monochromatic color scheme- white blinds; gray walls; silver-y carpet; gray bedding; shiny, black furniture. Honestly, Dean finds it a little depressing, even if the furnishings of this room alone probably cost more than everything in his place combined.

With another stretch and one last groan, Dean pulls himself up and throws his legs over the side of the bed. He can't help wriggling his toes in the plush carpet, enjoying just how soft it is. He scans the room to find his clothes folded neatly on top of the dresser. Cas must have collected it all for him this morning, which leaves a bitter taste in Dean's mouth. He must want Dean out quickly. It isn't until he's standing right in front of the dresser that he realizes there's a note on top of his clothes.

_Dean,_

_Sorry I had to run out, but early shoot this morning demanded it. Feel free to stay as long as you want. I wouldn't mind coming home to find you still in my bed. If not, I will hopefully see you another time._

_Castiel_

_P.S. I put my number in your phone. You really should have a lock on it._

Dean's face is burning crimson by the time he's done reading. Not that it's explicit, but he can just hear Cas's rough voice saying it, see the little smirk playing on the guy's plush, pink, kissable lips, blue eyes lighting up with amusement.

He shakes the image out of his head. There's no use in getting turned on now. He quickly gets dressed and then checks his phone. Sure enough, there is a new contact added- _Cas_.

_ "Call me that always."_

Dean shakes his head again. Fuck, he needed to get his head on straight. Spending all day fantasizing about a male model riding his dick isn't going to be helpful in getting any work done. Unless, that is, if he writes that album about Cas's ass. The thought has him smiling in amusement. It wouldn't be the worst idea he's ever had.

He looks at the clock on his phone- 7:26 A.M. He's supposed to be at the studio in an hour.

If he heads home first, he'll definitely be late, but Cas lives a lot closer to the studio. It'll probably take him fifteen minutes tops to get there. He could hang out here for awhile; after all, Cas had given him full permission to stay as long as he wanted. Somehow, though, skulking around the guy's apartment when he isn't there just seems creepy.

He decides he'll stop by somewhere and get some breakfast before heading into work. He'll still be early, but there's nothing wrong with that. Let the label think he's extra dedicated instead of just doing the walk of shame.

* * *

><p>Dean finds Ruby already occupying the kitchen when he gets there, head buried in the fridge and looking drastically different then she had last night at the party. In place of the sexy, all red ensemble, she's wearing yoga pants and an oversized hoodie.<p>

"Fancy meeting you here," he says by way of greeting, leaning against the counter as he takes a bite out of his bagel.

Ruby emerges from the refrigerator with a box of cold, McDonald's fries. Dean grimaces at the them.

"You know you have a problem, right?" he asks.

She doesn't answer, and instead stares at him intently. Slowly, a wicked grin spreads across her face. "You sly dog, you!"

Dean hopes his face isn't as red as it feels. "I don't know what you're talking about," he tries to pull of casually.

Ruby just rolls her eyes. "Right, because I wouldn't notice that you're wearing the exact same clothes as last night, plus some extra wrinkles in them."

"I have a very limited wardrobe," he says defensively.

She snorts in amusement and shakes her head. "Seriously, drop the act. It's not like I blame you. Hell, if I swung that way, I would be all over him, myself."

Now Dean knows he's blushing. Ruby just laughs. "So I guess I don't need to bother asking you if you had a good time last night."

Dean scowls at her, the effect apparently completely lost by how deeply he's blushing if Ruby's continued mirth is anything to go by.

"So tell me all about it," she instructs, sliding into a chair at the table and munching on a fry with apt attention pointed at Dean.

"Not much to tell," he mumbles, refusing to make eye contact.

"I find that incredibly hard to believe," is Ruby's sardonic response.

Dean refuses to answer, instead going back to his bagel. Ruby waits quietly for him to give her the details she wants, but when he doesn't, she says, "You give me no choice then."

Dean gives the extremely intellectual response of, "Muh?" around his bite of bagel, looking up and realizing in horror that Ruby has pulled out her phone.

* * *

><p>"Meg, Ruby's calling you," Castiel says with a glance towards the woman's bag sitting on one of the chairs littering the shoot site.<p>

Meg pulls out her phone, letting the sultry beat of Ruby Genz's biggest flop play on instead of answering it.

"I don't know why you insist of keeping that as her ring tone, she hates that song," Castiel scolds.

Meg smirks at him. "I think you just answered your own question." When the song clip starts over, she swipes the screen to accept the call. "Lucky you, Ruby. You caught me during one of my very precious breaks. What is it I can do for you?"

"Did you know that your boy and my boy hooked up last night?" Ruby asks.

Meg raises her eyebrows suggestively at Cas. "I did not. Clarence, why didn't you tell me you took Deano home last night?"

"Regardless of what you think, Meg, you don't know every aspect of my life," Castiel snips.

Meg huffs, smirk never faltering. "Right, keep telling yourself that."

"I'm gonna take that as he didn't tell you," Ruby says from the other side of the line.

"Not even a hint, and he's being a big baby about it now," Meg responds, continuing to watch Castiel as he scowls at her.

Meg just smiles at him, saying, "Oh really, Ruby, you don't say. Dean hated it that much?"

"Stop that!" Cas growls, snatching the phone from her, Meg doubling over in laughter once he takes it.

Cas places the phone to his ear. "Hello, Ruby."

"Hey, Castiel."

"So Dean told you about last night?"

"Didn't have to when he showed up to work all ruffled and still dressed the same."

Castiel grimaces. "I wasn't aware he needed to be into the studio today. I would have woken him up."

"Well isn't that sweet. So unlike you," Ruby chirps.

Cas frowns. "I'm plenty sweet."

She laughs into the phone, a pretty, delightful sound. "I know, I know. You're as endearing as a box of kittens."

"I somehow feel like that's an insult."

"It's whatever you want it to feel like."

"Meg! Castiel! Breaks over, come on!" one of the assistants shouts from where the set up is.

"Tell Dean to call me," Cas says quickly, completely without thought, before hanging up and stashing Meg's phone back in her bag.

Meg looks at him as though she's never seen him before. "_Call you?"_

"Don't start," he grumbles, stalking off to the set. Meg shrugs behind him.

* * *

><p>After a few false starts during Dean's morning recording session, all 100% his own fault, Dean has to push Cas as far from his mind as possible. It isn't easy at first, but as he gets more into the music, he eventually forgets all about blue eyes and perfect hip bones. He manages to not think about Cas at all until they break for lunch. Then he's stuck staring at his phone as though it has offended him as he distractedly eats his lunch.<p>

Ruby slides into the seat across from him. "So Castiel gave you his number?"

Dean doesn't answer, and instead raises stares at her in disbelief. "You're still here!?"

"Yes, I'm still here," she grouses, snatching a fry from him.

He looks between his food and his friend, an expression of utter betrayal on his face. "You have a problem!"

Once Ruby finishes chewing, she settles him with a look that is two parts curious to one part concerned. "So are you going to call him?"

"I hadn't decided yet." A beat passes. "Should I not?"

"I never said that." Her expression doesn't change though.

"Ruby, I'm serious. If you know something, you better tell me."

Ruby heaves a tired sigh, which could either mean it's bad or that she's just tired. Dean wouldn't be surprised if she didn't sleep at all last night, what with her six A.M. recording slot and all.

She smiles wanly at him. "Don't get me wrong, I like Castiel, he's a good friend, just..." She bites her lip contemplatively, then settles him with a determined look. "Don't you think you should focus on the album? You've got big things coming your way if you work hard. I'd hate to see you miss out because of some guy, even if that guy is someone I really like." She pushes back from the table and stands up. "I'm just saying, that from a professional standpoint, now might not be the best time to be exchanging numbers with guys."

Dean looks at his phone and can't help feeling disappointed because he knows she's right. He came to New York to make it in the big times, not make it in hot guys. When he looks back up at Ruby, she's grinning manically at him.

"Must have been one hell of a lay, though. He _never_ gives out his number."

Dean blinks owlishly before shouting, "Damn it, Ruby!" as she runs out, laughing the whole way.

* * *

><p>Dean takes Ruby's advice and deletes Cas's number from his phone, focusing wholly on his work. It's probably for the best because even if he hadn't, he stays so busy that he would have never been able to see the guy anyway. He wishes he could say that he completely forgets about Cas in that time, but that proves basically impossible. However, he does manage to keep all thoughts of the model confined to <em>very<em> specific times. Almost a full month passes before he's made to think about Cas anywhere beyond the confines of his apartment.

He's packing up for the afternoon, getting ready to leave the studio for the day when Ruby walks in and leans oh-so-too-casually against the doorjamb.

"Want to go somewhere with me?"

Dean regards her suspiciously. "Yeah, because that isn't shady."

She rolls her eyes in that over-exaggerated way she adopts whenever she deems that Dean is being difficult.

"Ruby, just tell me where you want me to go." He's finding it difficult to keep his patience with her today, ready as he is to go home.

"If I tell you, you're just going to call me a hypocrite and say no," Ruby whines, and it reminds Dean of his friend Charlie back home and when she didn't get her way when they were kids.

"Ruby!" he snaps. "Just spit it out!"

Ruby scowls petulantly at him for a moment longer before finally huffing out, "Fine!" However, her silence continues.

"Well?" Dean prompts.

She gives an over-exaggerated sigh. "I'm meeting Meg and Castiel at their shoot so that we can go out for dinner."

Dean narrows his eyes at her. "I thought you told me I shouldn't hang out with Cas."

"I _said_ I didn't think you should be getting involved with _anyone_ right now. I didn't say you couldn't have friends."

Dean continues staring her down until, finally, he cast his eyes to the side in uncertainty. "I never called him."

"I'm sure he's over it," she says with a smile. It honestly doesn't make him feel any better.

* * *

><p>Dean hears the <em>click-schnik-click<em> of a camera shutter before they even reach the set.

"Are you sure it's okay we're here?" he whispers.

Ruby looks at him like he's an idiot. "Why are you whispering?"

"I just uh... I figured that's what you do on a set?"

"A movie set, sure. But this is a photo shoot. You don't have to be that quiet." She rolls her eyes.

"Well how am I supposed to know," he grumbles.

An excited call of Ruby's name stops them in their tracks, and a young man runs up to them.

"I haven't seen you around in awhile!" he says with a broad, sweet smile.

Ruby smiles back. "Been working on a new album, Alfie."

Impossibly, the kids grin gets even bigger. "Awesome! I can't wait to hear it."

"I'll get you a signed copy," Ruby responds with a wink. "Now, are Castiel and Meg still in the shoot?"

"Yeah! But you can go on in."

"Will do, thanks. Nice seeing you again, kid." Ruby gives a small wave before walking on, Dean following after a beat.

"Who's that?" he asks.

"Alfred Samandriel. He's the personal assistant to Abaddon Knight."

"Abaddon Knight? That famous photographer?"

Ruby looks at him with raised eyebrows and a grin. "Look at you! I'm impressed."

Dean can feel his cheeks heating up. "Yeah, well, she does a lot of the photos in _Rolling Stone_."

Ruby laughs. "Well, you're in for a treat, then."

The set itself is much simpler than Dean would have imagined, much quieter, too. There was no hustle and bustle of assistants running around or gaggles of snooty models waiting their turn. There are only two people sitting off to the side at styling stations who Dean can only assume are a makeup artist and a stylist; a woman with flaming red hear pulled back in an intricate bun snapping pictures; and then in the center of the room, spotlights shining on them, are Meg and Cas.

It's probably the most erotic scene Dean has ever seen. Cas is completely sprawled across an ornate chaise, looking perfectly disheveled with his arms thrown behind his head and completely naked but for a sock covering his dick, piercing blue eyes, bluer than Dean ever could have imagined, staring into the camera. And sprawled on top of him is Meg, cheek resting atop crossed hands on Castiel's chest, the only clothing on her a tiny, flesh-toned G-sting and a giant, diamond bracelet, though Dean assumes there are also some pasties involved in the ensemble.

It all knocks the breathe out of Dean and makes his pants feel a little tighter because sure, he's _really_ into Cas, and now he's getting to see the guy in almost all his glory in good lighting, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't find Meg hot as hell, too. She may be a little less curvy than most girls he would be interested in, but there's something about the predatory gleam that constantly burns deep in her brown eyes that draws him in like a moth to the flame, alluring but equally deadly. Putting the two of them together, all made up to look like they've just had great sex that somehow still leaves them unimpressed with each other? Well, it makes not a hell of a lot of sense, but Dean is down for it all the same.

"Shit," he exhales breathlessly. Except it must not be as quietly as he first thought because the snapping of the lens shutter abruptly stops, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Ruby shooting him a coy look.

The red head, who must be Abaddon, slowly lowers her camera, every move calculated and sure, and turns to Dean and Ruby with a murderous glare.

As Dean feels about to piss his pants, a sultry smile just spreads across Ruby's face as she says, "Hey, Abbie, what's up?"

The glare immediately fades off Abaddon's face, replaced by something much more friendly. "Ruby," she purrs, "I can only expect you're here for these two?" She tilts her head back minutely to where Cas and Meg are still laying on the chaise.

"Oh, Abbie, you know I always have time for you," Ruby simpers.

Abaddon throws her head back with a short bark of a laugh. "Well, lucky for you, I think it's just about time we took a short break."

Ruby pouts pitifully, and the whole display honestly makes Dean want to gag a little. "You mean you guys aren't done yet?" she asks.

Abaddon scowls, and while it's nowhere near as frightening as her glare, it's still enough to make Dean uneasy. "We would be done," Abaddon says slowly, words drawn out through gritted teeth, "if _somebody_," here she shoots a glare at Meg, "knew how to be on fucking time."

If Meg hears her, she doesn't give any indication that she cares.

Ruby smiles sympathetically. "I understand that scenario all too well. Why don't I have Alfie run across the street to grab us some coffee, and you can use the break to unload on me."

Abaddon gives the younger woman a pleased smirk, suggestive enough that even Dean is blushing to the roots of his hair.

"I'd like that very much, Ruby." She turns to Meg and Cas and shouts, "Take twenty you two!"

"Twenty!?" Meg shouts, lifting herself to hover over Castiel's chest. "We're never going to get out of here at this rate!"

"Should have thought of that before being late," Abaddon chides.

Meg glowers at her before swinging herself off the chaise. It's all Dean can to do quickly avert his eyes, ridiculously wanting to maintain some modicum of decency.

When he sees Meg's bare feet approaching, he finally looks back up to find both she and Castiel are wrapped up in fuzzy, white robes, similar to the kinds high end resorts and spas give out.

Meg has her brown eyes trained on Ruby, big and doe-like, bottom lip pushed out delicately. "Will you get me something to eat to tide me over until we can get to dinner?"

"I'm stealing her away for coffee, Meg," the photographer says smugly. "You'll just have to find someone else to make your food run." The way she says it, Dean's pretty sure there aren't exactly other options.

Meg's expression turns unreadable, eyes flicking between Abaddon and Ruby, while said singer bites her lip nervously.

When Abaddon moves to Ruby's side and slides her arm around the younger woman's waist, Meg's expression smooths out into the schooled blankness every model seems to sport by default.

Leaning down to speak almost directly into Ruby's ear, Abaddon says, "Let's go find Alfie."

Ruby hesitates only for a split-second, giving Meg that odd look Dean's seen her give the model twice now, before nodding and walking off with Abaddon.

Dean searches for something to say to Meg as the model stares after the departing couple, expression carefully blank. He comes up with little more than a cautious utterance of her name before she huffs, turning the other way and storming off. He feels his throat close up completely when he sees Cas walking towards him, looking after Meg briefly before training shocking blue eyes on Dean. Dean feels a flush crawl up his neck as Castiel's commands from almost a month ago echo around in his brain- _Don't ever look away from me_. Dean's starting to become pretty certain he couldn't even if he tried.

Cas is watching him, studying him, head tilted just to the side as he stares at Dean, almost seeming to stare straight through him, and Dean is realizing that looking at Cas in the daylight is a lot different than looking at Cas in shitty club lighting and darkness. The guy is still sex on legs, but the God-like aura seems to have melted away. Or maybe that's just the lack of drugs, if the normal sized pupils are anything to go by.

"Walk with me?" Castiel asks, and Dean is helpless to do anything but nod.

He follows the man back through a tiny hallway behind the shoot site and leads him into what Dean can only guess is a changing room going by the racks and racks of clothing. He walks in ahead of Cas, who hangs back by the door, and takes it all in.

"Seems a little strange to have all this stuff in here when you're doing a nude shoot," Dean says, trying to place some levity to his words. When he turns to face the model, Cas is leaning against the now closed door, staring Dean down as though the musician is some sort of alien creature.

"You never called me," Cas says, and he doesn't sound accusing, doesn't sound mad. He simply sounds intrigued, like it's a remarkable feat that Dean accomplished by not contacting the guy. Dean supposes he could see where that may be true. After all, how many guys are stupid enough to turn down hot models who are great in the sack? Could someone remind Dean again just why he let Ruby talk him into that?

Dean swallows around the lump in his throat. "Yeah, uh... Sorry about that. I've been pretty busy. Time just kind of slipped away from me, I guess."

Castiel smiles at him, but it's odd, not the kind of smile that shows on his mouth, it's the kind of smile that shines purely through his eyes, all amusement, like he finds Dean's answer quaint and cute. For some reason, it goes straight to Dean's dick.

"Want to make it up to me?" Castiel asks, the smirk finally becoming ever-so-slightly perceptible on those plush, pink lips.

"Do they put lipstick on you for these shoots?" Dean asks dumbly, and he could kick himself. _Time and place, Winchester! When hot as fuck models are propositioning you in changing rooms is definitely not it!_

The smirk spreads fully across Cas's face, flashing pearly white teeth. When he speaks, it's with a soft chuckle in his tone. "They do, actually. Do you like it?"

And God help him, but Dean definitely does like it.

Castiel steps into Dean's space, slipping a hand around the back of Dean's neck, leaning in so that his breath is ghosting across Dean's lips as he says, "Does seeing me in front of the camera do it for you?"

Dean can't help leaning in for a kiss, the response automatic, Castiel's warmth drawing him in like a magnet, but Cas stops him, placing the pads of his fingers against Dean's mouth.

"Sorry, Dean, still in the middle of a shoot. Can't risk messing up the look."

Dean lets out a low groan in frustration that chokes off into one of pleasure as Castiel starts rubbing the palm of his hand against Dean's half-hard cock through his jeans.

"Is this what I do to you, Dean?" Cas asks, so close Dean can feel the man's body heat. Cas grips Dean's wrist with his other hand, guiding him past the fabric of the robe, brushing Dean's hand against his own erect member, and Dean's breath catches. "You do the same to me," Cas whispers.

Dean wraps his hand around Cas's dick, thumb roving over the slit to spread the precome accumulating there. Cas gasps, and Dean wants nothing more than to move into it, swallow the sounds straight from Castiel's mouth. The fact that he can't only serves to heighten every sensation further- the smooth velvet of Cas's skin in his hand, the coarse rub of denim against his own straining dick, the heat of Castiel before him, perfect and untouchable.

"So I can look but not touch," Dean murmurs into Cas's ear, and Cas lets out a breathy chuckle.

"You can keep touching me, Dean, just not anywhere else." Dean can hear the smile in the model's voice.

Dean moans deep in his throat, and Cas just gazes at him with a hazy smile, breath catching with every stroke and twist and flick of Dean's hand. Dean wants to tell Cas how beautiful he looks like this, how sexy, how perfect, lips parted as he heaves in little hitched gasps, eyes half-lidded, head tilted back just enough to expose the perfectly tanned skin of Cas's neck, only he's sure it's all things Cas has heard before. Dean doesn't want to be just another guy in a long stream of men. Dean wants to stand out, it's all he's ever wanted, and with Cas the feeling is only multiplied.

"So I can touch you _here_," Dean emphasizes it with a twist on his upstroke, ripping a choked moan from Cas, "however I want?"

Cas offers him a heady grin. "How is it you want to touch me, Dean?"

Dean grins back, untying the cord around the robe easily before falling softly to his knees and pushing the fabric aside.

Cas moans long and low, hands sliding into Dean's hair as the musician sucks him down. Cas's dick is hot and heavy on his tongue, the salty taste of him making Dean's taste buds over-sensitive with the flavor. He swallows Cas down to the hilt, nosing the skin there where Cas is clean-shaven. Dean never much thought about how he felt about men shaving their pubic hair, but on Cas he loves it, the smell of oils and soap mixing together deliciously with the man's own natural, musky scent to create a light perfume that Dean could get high off of. He drags his lips back up, tongue swirling around the head, pressing flat against the slit where Cas is leaking a steady stream of precome.

Cas gives a long moan of his name, and Dean can't help the smug feeling the wells up in him that he's the one drawing these noises out of Cas.

Dean sets a steady pace, adding in the occasional lick and barest nip of teeth as he learns what Cas likes best, using the symphony of moans and gasps and exhalations of his own name as a road map. He revels in the scratch of Cas's nails against his scalp and the way Cas's fingers tighten in his hair and pull just enough to be on that sexy side of painful.

When Cas basically whimpers, "Dean, so close," it's all the incentive he needs to swallow the model down one more time and moan around the fat cock in his throat.

Cas lets out a hoarse cry, fingers locked tight in Dean's hair, as he pulses his release down Dean's throat. Dean is sure to swallow down every last drop, tongue laving Castiel's dick until it sits fully softened in his mouth. The two make eye contact, Cas running a hand down the side of Dean's face, expression wide and open and completely blissed out, and where are the cameras when Dean needs them? Because these are the kinds of pictures Dean needs of Cas, not the posed ones on the chaise where him and another model stare boredly into the lens.

A harsh _rap-rap-rapping_ knock at the door shatters the moment, Meg calling though, "Clarence, put your boy toy away so that we can wrap up this shoot and go get dinner! I'm starving!"

When Dean looks away from the door and back up at Cas, it's to find that the model is still staring at him with a look in his eyes somewhere between fond and _don't-you-look-delicious_, and Dean is suddenly very reminded that his own dick is straining against the seam of his pants, completely neglected and aching.

Cas seems to have the same though because his eyes flick almost imperceptibly down to Dean's crotch, dark lashes fanning against perfect cheeks for the barest of seconds before he looks back into Dean's eyes while calling back, "I'll be out in just a second, Meg." Cas runs the pad of his thumb against Dean's swollen bottom lip, smirk positively lecherous. Much quieter, he says, "I think I know what I'd like for dessert tonight, too, if that's alright with you."


End file.
